Private Longbottom
by Brigitte Treble
Summary: A smokey corner office. A pouting dame. Follow Neville as he tails Moaning Myrtle in her mysterious doings as a '20s style detective. A short little Ficlet. Read and Enjoy!


**Disclaimer:** Outside the story, none of this is mine. The characters are JK Rowling's/Warner Brother's and a lot of the terminology comes from 20's slang sites that can be found be googling "'20's Slang". Oh, the charm that Neville says at the end is mine, actually! Horray!

**A/N:** Just a cute little ficlet that came out of a challenge I was posed in my yahoo group. Don't worry, I'm not letting up on my other stories! The kids at the group were getting restless for the fic.. http/groups. That's the link to it, feel free to join! It's an awesome group. It has classes and houses, currently in a house cup race which will end in December. It has an RPG group, HBP group, and a Quidditch group linked to it. Really active, friendly, creative and crazy! I'm in Verstandor, so try and get into that house. ;) Without further ado, here's the story. 

**Private Longbottom**

I own a smooth operation down here at the joint. It's a small corner in the tower but the rent's good and the women are better. Well, I was down in my corner, minding the plant if you know what I mean, when I heard a sobbing sort of noise coming from the little boy's room. I decided to check it out.

She was a blue one, the kind that's up to no good, with cheaters the size of her face. They were fogging up now, a feat for the History of Magic books, no doubt. I've never been one for book smarts, but I was pretty sure ghosts didn't actually cry, when they cried. A puzzling scene to be sure.

I approached the dame cautiously, wand where I could reach it. She gave me the heebie-jeebies, this one did. She has a reputation for slinking in these types of holes, see. They called her Moaning Myrtle and the chick lived up to her name. She gave me one of those looks. You know the kind. Her kisser turned into a pout and those red eyes had a bit more flick to them than before. I went into investigate.

"What's the grift here?" I threw at her, my hand on my wand. She wasn't going to get the bulge this time. I knew her type.

She slid off the sink and glided over. "Nothing, babe, " She replied silkily, pausing for a sniff, "I was just sitting by my lonesome in the usual place, you know the one."

I nodded. That 'place' was well known around these bits. Watery, if you know what I mean.

"Well, I was just there, brooding over those nasty mugs that had caused a bit of trouble at my joint earlier. Then... all of a sudden, the whole place is bursting into periwinkles! The blue, flowery kind. All over and they wouldn't stop. The sharper who set that up must of had a good long chuckle at me then! Imagine, poor little me. In a field of periwinkles." She stopped here and burst into a torrent of those big blue tears again. There was a chance the chick was telling the truth- Her joint had a record of being any easy shot for wise guys. And the flowers would have matched her mood quite well.

"Alright. I believe you're not giving me any bunk. Why are you hanging around this joint then?"

Her tears slowed and a sly grin appeared on that old dame's face. "Well, my place was being overtaken by those old blues. I needed to hang in some other place for a bit. This place got a...good recommendation." A likely story. The babe had been hanging around these bits for longer than I want to remember, chasing after that Potter cat. I needed to clean up and it wouldn't look good to have this chick hanging around.

"It's a simple spell. I'll bump off those periwinkles in a second. Savvy?" I posed it more as a command than a question. You can't give these types much of a chance, you see. She gave a faint nod and tailed me down to her place. The periwinkles were there, sure, but it was a bouquet out of a faucet, not an ambush. I was relieved, this meant that I could get back to my plant sooner. It's a bit lonely these days, you see.

I pushed open the door with a swagger that only us privates can have, when I was hit with a shot. She had framed me into walking face first into a sour yellow liquid. Mustard, I should have known! Mustard is the bees knees on Brats, but a nasty shielding device Her joint was the last place that needed one anyways, if you know what I mean. I heard a faint giggling behind me. Oh, that Dora...

"Sorry, I heard of mustard shielding and thought it was simply the cat's meow. The smell will come off in a day or two, hun," she said as she floated past me. Oh what I wouldn't give to bump her off at that moment. Unfortunately, some fella had already done that. I was having as far from a whopee as you could get. I needed to scram from that place. I would fix those periwinkles and give myself the gate.

"Collarium!" I yelled, sick of her decieteful ways. Those periwinkles didn't get bumped off. They sort of sat there winking at me. However, a pair of turtledoves were floating over the dame. Oh, Lord, she'd be tailing after me now. The smile on her kisser showed she already found them keen. I really needed to scram now.

"CO-larrium!" I yelled again. Thankfully, the charm worked that time leaving but a leaf in that old sink. With a tip of my hat, I turned on my heel and strode out of that joint. There are some chicks you shouldn't hang around with too much. A moaning Moll is one of those chicks. Especially when they're given to violent crushes.

I settled back to my place with a fresh load of giggling water for me and my plant. I grinned. It was another job well done for Private Longbottom.


End file.
